I own the rights to none of the characters in this story, even the characters that I created. If Disney wants to film this story and show it every year at Christmas, they have my permission.
Knight in Shining Armor
Chapter 3
They say life is a magazine, and a board game, and a box of cereal, and that's all it is. I had always thought life had more going for it than that, but lately, I had begun to wonder.
What does a Miranda Sanchez look like, after a three-month absence?
It was a razor-sharp bright morning at North Hillridge High School, the first day of our junior year. I was trying to locate my new locker when Miranda spotted me. She was just coming from the Arts/Music wing.
"Gordo!" she squealed, and gave me a big hug, and I responded in kind. She pulled back to look at me uncertainly, as if she had accosted a stranger by accident. "You haven't shaved," she noticed.
"Yeah," I chuckled. "Was up kind of late, last night. Listen, I'm sorry I didn't--"
"Looks good," she said quietly, looked into my eyes, and stepped out from my arms.
I thought to myself, "Wow. I don't think I should go on any more three-month sabbaticals, cause that could very easily lead to my falling in love with this young woman, on my return."
I could talk about her looks, her hair, the curve of her face, the shape of her body. Who cares? It's the sound of her voice, the gleam in her eyes, the heat of her breath, the beat of her heart.
That's what a Miranda Sanchez looks like, after a three-month absence.
And that's when two hands covered my eyes from behind me. "d'jamissme?" came an unmistakable voice. I peeled the hands from my face and turned, to find Lizzie, smiling mischievously. Wouldn't you know it? She had grown another half an inch over the summer. I was doomed never to catch up with her. "Hey, McGuire," I growled.
We hugged tightly, so tightly I lifted her briefly off her feet, and she gasped, "Gordo!" I released her, and took a deep breath. She turned to the side, and lifted her chin in the air.
"Not talking to me?" I asked playfully.
Her lower lip pooched out in a flirty pout. "I stayed up until midnight, last night, and you never called."
Hmmmm, I thought. This didn't sound like the Lizzie I had been expecting. In fact, it sounded a lot like the Lizzie I had left, before Memorial Day. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Miranda watching Lizzie intently.
"I had a lot of unpacking to do," I told her sheepishly. She tilted her head, as if debating whether to accept my excuse. "And tonight," I continued, "we have a lot of catching up to do." I glanced to Miranda, and then back to Lizzie. "What about that video-fest I promised you guys, back in April?"
"Cool," Miranda replied.
Lizzie flashed her brightest smile and said, "I'm on board."
"Just stop by about five-thirty, I guess," I suggested. "I'll order the pizza, and when--"
"D'oh!" Lizzie interrupted, slamming her palm against her forehead. "Ugh. Guys, I'm sorry. I forgot."
Ah. Here it comes. This was where she would tell us she had already made plans with Kate, and Claire, and some of the guys at Eye Tappa Kegg, it being Friday night, and all.
"My aunt is in town," Lizzie explained. "I-I'm so sorry. I promised my mom I'd eat dinner at home, and stick around tonight. I'm really sorry. I'd try to blow it off, but Jennifer hasn't been out here in four years, so...."
My eyes met Miranda's. We were thinking the same thing. We were the ones being blown off; she just didn't want to tell us to our faces. "That's okay," I assured Lizzie. "Maybe later this weekend?"
"Huh?" Lizzie asked. "Well, I just meant, why can't we do it at my house?" Again, my eyes locked with Miranda's briefly. "I mean, it would probably have to be after dinner--I think my mom's looking forward to all that family bonding stuff--but, like, you guys could come over about seven-thirty, then we'll break off to my room, and watch videos 'til the sun comes up!"
I thought Miranda was about to sob with relief. "That sounds like the most fun I've had since junior high!" she said.
I nodded. "I'll bring the chocolates."
Lizzie broke out in the biggest smile I'd ever seen. "Avengers Assemble!" she laughed, hugging her notebook to her chest. And if we never see each other again after graduation, and if I live to be a senile old man, that'll be the image that I always remember her by.
Our schedules prevented us from seeing each other, most of the day. I had AP History with Lizzie, AP Biology with Miranda, and AP English with both of them. All of my classes were advanced placement, and History and English were all that Lizzie felt comfortable with. Beyond that, Lizzie and Miranda were together for chorus and PE.
And lunch. We all had lunch at the same time. We brought our own lunches, or we just bought something from the machines. No one trusted the cafeteria food. When we were in grade school, you could drop the lunchroom rolls on the floor, and they bounced back up to the table. In junior high, you dropped the rolls and they cracked. In high school, you dropped them, and the floor cracked.
That day, we had staked out our traditional table, and I had opened my lunch. I was having a boiled egg sandwich, with a slice--
You don't really want to hear this, do you?
Okay. So, anyway, Miranda asked, "So what are we watching tonight? I vote for Seabiscuit."
"Mmmh," I held up one hand, putting down the juice I had been holding with the other. "Wait, now. I think I can score a pirate of Dawn of the Dead." Both of them gave me a dumbfounded look.
Lizzie stared up at me, with her head tilted forward. "Gordo," she said, with the tone she usually reserved for Matt, "I'm not watching a zom--"
"Hellllloooo, dear sweet Lizzie." All of us looked up from our table to notice Kate Sanders standing in the aisle. Her voice was sugary, with none of the venom she usually held for us. For a brief moment, I had this weird sense of vertigo. It was sort of like hearing a snake purr like a kitten.
Instantly, Lizzie's mood grew sombre. "Hi, Kate," she mumbled, her eyes downcast, picking an olive off her pizza.
"Gordo!" Kate turned to me. "It's good to see you, again! How was your summer? Did you have fun, playing with all those toys at Cal State?"
"Cal Tech, Kate," I corrected her. "J.P.L."
"Did you shoot any exciting videos?"
I shrugged. "Not really. They're kinda shaky on letting cameras roam around."
"Well, I bet you were bored then, huh? Guess you should've stuck around." I had no clue what she was talking about.
"Kate, do you mind?" Miranda asked. "We're trying to enjoy a meal, and, well, you're here, so...."
Kate gave an almost honest laugh, and said, "Oh, Miranda, where did you get those shoes? I love them!" Miranda looked down at her feet self-consciously, as I'm sure Kate had intended. She was wearing what I think they called Soda Ankle Wraps. I thought she looked cute in them. "Our maid has a pair just like them!" Kate smirked. Okay. My world was settling back down again. Kate and Lizzie were the way I remembered them.
"Kate," Lizzie sighed. "Just--"
"Lizzie!" Kate interrupted again. "Coming over tonight?"
"No," Lizzie replied quietly. She waved her fork in our direction. "We're getting together. Some other time, huh?"
"Awww, Lizzie," Kate tutted. "Everybody's getting together at my house. We'll miss you! You can do that old assembling thing"--she waved one hand airily as she said it--"any time. Come on," she pleaded. "Just this once. I know what! There's this boy I want you to meet. He's real cute! You'll like him! I promise! What do you say?"
"Kate," Lizzie tried again. "Just go. Please?"
"Okay," Kate relented. "But promise me you'll think about it, sweetie. Call me, okay?" Kate had already turned to leave, so she didn't see Lizzie nod in reply. It was only then that I noticed how pale Lizzie had grown.
I didn't bother driving over to Lizzie's that evening. I only lived a block and a half down from her house, and Miranda was two blocks over. At one time, Kate had been my next door neighbor, but her family had been "movin' on up."
I rang the doorbell with a dub of Dawn of the Dead in one hand, and a small but potent box of Swiss chocolates in the other. The door was opened by Matt in a black jumpsuit. He squinted at me, as if he didn't recognize me. "What'sh the pashword?" he asked suspiciously. It was a fairly passable Sean Connery accent.
*Sigh*. Always something. "Hey, Matt. Is Lizzie here?"
"That'sh not the pashword."
He was closing the door on me when I heard Lizzie's dad warn him, "Ma-a-a-tt?"
Matt grimaced and reopened the door, stepping aside to let me in. Mr. McGuire called to me from the kitchen. "Gordo! Come on in!" I entered the kitchen, where Lizzie's dad was putting leftovers into the refrigerator. "Good to see you again, son." He shook my hand warmly. "How are the jets propulsing?"
"Doing quite well, when I left." He returned to moving utensils from the counter top to the dishwasher. I guessed that Mrs. McGuire was in the den, catching up with her sister. "Um, is Lizzie in her room?"
"Ah, no," he answered, standing up straight and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No, she left about half an hour ago. Gone to Kate's, I believe."
I felt the floor drop out from under me momentarily. So casually, he said it. Gone to Kate's, I believe.
"I don't understand," I said. "I thought...." I dropped both hands to my side. "Her aunt...."
"Yeah, I know," Mr. McGuire replied sympathically. "She promised. After dinner, though, she asked if she could go over to Kate's. Her mom said no, and Lizzie begged. It was the most important thing in her life, she'd never ask for anything else, you know how it is, when you have a teenage girl." I gave him a blank stare. "Well, I guess you don't, but let me tell you, everything is the most important thing in the world. Everything's melodramatic. But then she was crying, and that wasn't melodramatic. No bawling, or anything. Just tears." He leaned back against the kitchen island, drying his hands with a dishtowel, smiling wistfully. "You know, the day she was born, I promised myself I wouldn't let this beautiful little girl wrap me around her little finger." He grunted, and returned the towel to its rack. "Guess you see how well that turned out."
I could hear the muted discussion coming from the den, the blare of a television from upstairs, the pinging of the oven as it cooled. "Mr. McGuire, have you noticed that Lizzie's...changed?"
He seemed to consider my question for a moment, then shrugged. "Hanging out with Kate some, I guess."
I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "And you think that's a good thing?"
Mr. McGuire studied me, then pointed to the kitchen table. "Come on, Gordo. Have a seat." I pulled out a chair, and he joined me. "How long have you and Lizzie been friends?"
I shook my head, confused. "I don't remember ever not being friends."
"Hmmm. Right. Gordo, I think that you and Miranda have always been the best friends that Lizzie could have ever had. I'd like to think that the three of you will always be there for each other. That's important. But Lizzie's becoming a young woman, and there are other things that are important, too.
"Now, what I'm about to say may hurt, but I hope you'll understand that I don't mean it to hurt you. I just want what's best for my little girl. Lizzie's mother and I have been...concerned...that Lizzie has been so...limited...in her personal relationships. While you and Miranda have been so good to her, and for her, sometimes it seems that you're her only friends, and I--we--just don't think that's healthy. We'd like to see her develop friendships--certainly nothing as close as she has with you, but friendships--with other people. Because, while we'd like to think that you and Miranda will always be there for her, sometimes things don't always work out that way. Sometimes, people grow apart.
"What's going to happen when you graduate, and you go to M.I.T., or Stanford, or Northwestern? Do you expect her to follow you? Will you still be spending every afternoon together then? Or will you be meeting new friends?" I thought, Well, there's also USC film school, but I didn't answer him. I didn't really think he was looking for one. "I don't know if Lizzie's thinking that far ahead, but I think she needs to broaden her horizons.
"So, when you ask me if I think it's a good thing that she's spending some time with people who are outside of her small, close-knit circle of friends...yes, Gordo, I do."
I nodded, to let him think I understood. That discussion opened my eyes a little bit. I realized two things from it. One was that parents were sometimes a little deeper than we gave them credit for. The other was that Miranda and I would be getting no help from the McGuires.
"Look," he said, slapping his hand against the kitchen table. "So, Lizzie's not here. Why don't you stick around? Matt and I are squaring off on the computer. Dynamo Warrior! Join us. We'll make it a tournament?"
"Thanks," I replied. "But I've got...stuff...." I pointed to the foyer, the front door. Yeah. Stuff. I've got to...uh, watch this video, and eat this chocolate.
"Sure," he said, and we both stood. I turned to leave, but he called to me. "Hey, Gordo?"
"Yeah?"
He seemed to consider backing out, but finally forged ahead. "Lizzie would kill me for saying this. I mean, she would kill me. But Lizzie's mother and I always thought...always hoped that you and she might...get together, as, well, you know."
"Thanks, I guess," I told him. "But it's not like that, Mr. McGuire. We're just friends."
"Of course," he nodded.
I don't know if he believed me, but it was the truth.
I excused myself and made my way through the front door, and out into the yard. Dusk was falling. Does dusk fall? Something felt like it was falling, that was for sure. At the end of the block, on the corner, under a streetlamp which had just clicked on in the August twilight, stood a beautiful young woman, unmoving. I walked down the block, joining her.
"She's not there, is she?" Miranda asked me quietly. I shook my head in reply. "She's at Kate's."
That one wasn't a question, but I answered it anyway. "Yeah." I looked back over my shoulder at Lizzie's house. It was a warm August evening, but a breeze whispered down the street, then blew between Miranda and I, and I shivered.